Well this shouldn’t be that hard a writing assignment she cautiously mused chewing on her pen cap nervously as her eyes went from the window to the door and back again.

It was the end of the day and though she didn’t look up she could feel their eyes upon her as she quietly got up the nerve to stand. Closing her bleary and bloodshot eyes to the whispers; whether real or imagined she puts one foot out and begins her sojourn- a silent heal toe version af a battle march. (Her state appointed therapist assures her this is her mind and body working together to help her feel safe and a good sign). Her peers however. “That her? Well my mom works as a 911 operator and says it was the brother that did it. Wait I thought he was the one who died. The other one idiot. No it was her. She’s the one who just got out of the loony b- Something to add to the discussion Therese ?”

Mrs. Baskerville offers a veneer of thin relief to her current problem but knows that’s all it will ever amount to anyway. A thin veneer. Therese will be back in full heat by next assignment. She really shouldn’t care what these cretins think. It’s actually disrespectful in her mind. Turning his whole existence all of their experiences into nothing more than fodder for the local teenage rumor mill. Then again, even she didn’t know or understand the truth herself. She tried to control her thoughts for just a moment. You are a stream. Let their words flow through you but never become a part of you. She carefully begins to dilate and blacken her eyes slowly making the words true.